Dolefully trudge to my chamber this night.
Carrying burden of this inimical plight.
Scrawling as a means to drop this weight light.
But alas, who will read these words that I write?

.........................................................­...........

Heaven in a dark place.
Jokers with no face.
Not a moment free yet not a thing to do.
The theif paints his cell wall.
With crushed plants and they fall.
Ivory clouds speckle the sky of blue.
Deep in the brain stem.
A bulb burning light dim.
Wallows the roots of everything once feared.
Blind marchers guiding.
Hunters found hiding.
Messy brigade leaves the ruins cleared.
Time will move on and on and on and on and on you too soon.
By the time eyes adjust to the sun you'll be seeing the moon.

I hope I never dance in a world
Where the sun doesn't say goodbye
By painting colors in the sky.
And my skin isn't my home.

I hope that I can forever feel
The ones I've loved
So our time doesn't feel rushed.
And I can see as far as my feet can take me.

We walked two miles through July wheat fields
that undulated  beneath Sunday morning sun
like golden swans.

The pond was glacier stone smooth, and canopied
by silver maple and swamp oak; willows lined
the  banks.

Miriam unfastened her hair, tossed her blouse
over my shoulders,  kicked her cut-offs
toward the boat’s bow,

and dove.

Dying for someone is easy,
everyday a soldier dies for a stranger.
Living for someone hurts,
for her I shall live.

For her I will let them poison me,
I will let them poke and ****,
and scan and search.
For her I shall live.

Dying would be so easy,
step away from the wards,
from the beeping machines,
from the sympathetic eyes,
and just be.

For her I do more than being,
for her I shall live.